moved differently.

I found this poem in high school and I thought I understood.

Love Poem
by Mary Fons

this poem is for the pillow clutchers
for those looking into the imaginary eyes of the person who fills their mind with sugarplum smiles
for those who have a canon of dreams ready and waiting to blossom
for the men and the women who want to be understood in that way that only someone who kisses you can understand you
this poem is for you. this poem is not for the desperate
the pathetic
the lame
the loser
not for the one who hasn’t gotten laid in awhile
not for the one who says they’re “choosing, you know, not to date for awhile"
there is no such thing
this poem is for the people who cannot bring themselves to admit that they would give their right leg for any length of time with the person on their mind.

forgive me
I am not a brave woman
I do not know what lurks in the hearts of humans and I don’t really want to know
if what’s there mirrors memories I show in my face on bad days
it holds kisses that are long gone
people who have disappeared
and passions that have faded into the ether of the past
nothing lasts
and that is the one lesson this coward can say she is able to teach.

this poem is for all those who wish to say “I’m sorry”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you
you deserve love”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give something to you
you deserve to be given to”
I’m sorry that for every person that loves somebody
another person just doesn’t want to
and sometimes we’re the lucky ones right?
we get to feel sweet truth in the night
the bodies we reach out to are miraculously there
but I know the despair that comes when they are not
I know the long nights and the doubt and the fear
and the crawling back to a womb that just isn’t there
I know intensity’s address and the letdown that rents there
I’m sorry for it
it takes years off your life and it cannot be avoided. and some times these little words are crutches for the crush that we feel
so this poem is a pathetic vehicle for me to tell you
each one of you
that I love you
in so many ways
in the same ways that stay up nights and days dreaming up the perfect way to be there for someone
meals you would cook for them
poems you would write for them
and the things you plan to say when they say no
well I love you
and you will never know how in the slight of a magician’s hand we could’ve been lovers and grandly in love
could’ve changed the whole game
written words on the horizon
changed the compromise
but you will know something else instead
bitter as bitter ever gets
more bitter than a rotten peach pit
more bitter than a child’s most terrifying nightmare at night
you will know that I don’t reflect what I see in your eyes
we will share some banal recognition
some cordial understanding 
but have I mentioned that I love you for be honest
have I mentioned that I love you for not lying
so many people lying all the time and I hate them
so I love you
and you will still go home alone/and that is very hard to do.

for all the humans with love for those who aren’t their lovers
I love you.

and so the poem ends because we know that it will
but before it slips away like everything else 
I will attempt the only words I can think of that are a fraction as good as a kiss:
when you reach out at night and find not someone
but the cold grey light of day that wakes you up like a slap
like a curse
like an insult
I love you
when you stay at home thinking of those who are long gone
or those who are getting kisses from someone that is not you
I love you
for those who want what they probably need
and whose bodies are starving not for food
for me and for you and for all the people who never knew or understood what you would do for them
I love you
I love you
I love you.

13 word love story

a high-five, a kiss on the cheek and an unexpected "Let's do it."

kind of caring

the thing about going back to school for something you *kind* of care about BUT will pay the bills and contribute to an overall lifestyle you dream of IS: you kind of care about it.
Kind of caring about something means:
you want to be *kind* of good at it.
you have little spouts of OH. I made the right decision.
you have minor melt downs at using your creative energy to go towards something you mildly care about and not using it to write something you very much dream about but will certainly not pay the bills anytime soon.
Kind of caring means you try to split yourself in half to focus energy on the school and focus energy on the writing you want to do.
It means having moments of regret and maybe you should just get an admin job that you don't even have to kind-of-care about and you can focus all your energy on little creative projects you tend to care too much about.
On little creative projects that make life worth living but do not make a living.
well not yet.

girl frans.

I've got a lot of women in my life. Gals, girls, ladies, females I adore.

My friend. My best friend. My girl. My minute by minute life updates. My probably birthed from the same woman. My honest to goodness soul friend. My we relate on a deeper level because we went to high school together. My most proud of me friend.  My makes me laugh the most. My lets be honest about really deep life stuff. My "you will do this because you said you would". My new friend. My we relate because we both went to theatre school. My "OMG DID YOU SEE WHAT THAT FAMOUS PERSON POSTED". My too invested in said famous persons life. My humor mate. My always dancing. My always laughing. My gets it. My veggie queen. My let's talk about it. My let's just eat bad. My SCANDAL babe. My do you know what their sign is? My music taste compliment your music taste. My sends me articles. My gals. 

01.04.18

This time last year I was in an emotionally strange place. I was at a work event drowning in the life events that had happened from Thanksgiving-Christmas only to then fall into more emotional despair until about March or April of 2017. I say emotional despair in a sort of making fun of myself way. If you can imagine a very dramatic voice saying: "The beginning of 2017 was quite emotional for me" that would be my voice, making fun of myself for feeling the feelings that I once had. Making fun is my way to deal, to laugh and to remind myself that difficult times are just moments.
What happened?
Well,  my woes and willows (again picture a boisterous woman with a dramatic fan near her saying this)Last year, all at once my father was in hospital, my heart was really sad for an unrequited love, my body got a curable (after enduring the worst pain I have ever felt) disease and overall I wasn't happy. I was a little lost, scared for my father (so scared that I decided the best thing to do would be to not talk to him or reach out to him or think about him for 6 months).
 I was just dealing. All of these things are separate content tabs. My father is a whole story. The unrequited love is another. My own sickness isn't a story its just an OUCH and I can't believe it happened and a shout out to "GET ALL YOUR SHOTS FOLKS"

Lots of stuff happened in 2017- A LOT. I moved to a different apartment away from my boys, my best friends, my family in Chicago. The move alone brought me !!!dRaMa!! and also cue to my sick father I talked about earlier moving in with me for a short two months.
 I went to China honestly out of nowhere but wow. what an amazing experience.
I started a portfolio program for Copywriting and have fallen in and out of love with it for months. I am usually confident in big decisions but I have a lot of questions as to if I made the right one with this program.

EDIT: ***after writing this I hung out with some girls I have met through the portfolio program and I've chatted with some good friends about post college programs and setting yourself up for future success and I know I have made the right decision.***

 I finished a comedy program, that I really didn't think was for me but I can honestly say from all the institutions I have been a part of (OSU, UCO Theatre, CPS, Other Comedy School & another comedy program & a few film classes) This program, I worked at. I cared. I put in effort. I made a commitment like I have never made before. I feel really proud. My work paid off and I believe it's an indication of the type of work that lights me up. The work I will lose sleep over. (said in a less sobbing more full of pride- lady but yes still dramatic) 

So let's talk about today. Today, I am  full of LO LO LO LO-VE for a few reasons.

My Dad is healthy and I think happy and I have a lot to look forward to. 

2018 is kind of a year of <IT'S UP TO ME> 

meaning there are no steps to success anymore. 

no more programs I just MUST complete to make a connection in this theatre or that theatre or learn from this teacher; from here it's apply what you have learned. 

Minus Portfolio which is still kind of ... you are on your own and we will give you "some guidance" 

I still feel like I don't know what I am doing. 

But it's settled. 

It's more of a floating in a little tube unsure of the destination than a laying in a room that is full of feathers and just inhaling feathers and seeing feathers and smelling feathers until you just want to die sort of thing. 

I don't know- weird. 

still running wild. 

Sierra 

the art of getting shit done.

I have a lot of shit I need to get done.
I need to do laundry.
I need to clean my room.
I need to wash the dreaded week old tupperwear out of my week old lunch bag.
I need to focus on the future.
I need to stop thinking so far ahead and just be in the moment.
I need to go for a run.
I need to get groceries.
I need to work harder and trust myself more.
I need to stop thinking about unrequited love- but maybe it was only unrequited like and nothing actually matters right now anyway because I'm still so young.. and I need to make decisions based on the now and not the WHAT IF or the future because I'm actually not at an age where future stuff matters or am I? Or does it?

okay okay okay

I thought I would be a doctor, a nurse, a lifeguard, an actress or at the very least working in a magazine like Andi Anderson (How to lose a guy in 10 Days). I never thought I would be a writer. I'm not really a writer but part of me says if you write you are a writer and that's just the way it works.

The younger version of me wrote "mystery" novels in my closet. I say mystery loosely because I would write them as scary as I could possible imagine and always end on a joke. It would be a Scooby doo like mystery where a raptor like monster terrorized a group of character's I made up. There would be twists! There would be turns! There would be terror! But always ending on a character loosely mentioned at the beginning of the story revealing him/herself at the end; He or She would apologize profusely and everyone in the story would think it was HILARIOUS.

As a little closet club house girl, mystery novels(with a jokey end) were my jam.  

My mother told me I was going to be a writer; my grandmother told me I was going to be an actress; (based on writing plays and performing plays for hours and hours at her trailer house every summer) My Father is a doctor but writes "like a motherfucker".

But most of the time I'm still writing in my cave closet trying to make my terrifying raptor man funny.